


Meet Me in the Afterglow

by track_04



Category: Gomorra - La Serie | Gomorrah (TV)
Genre: Biting, Bruises, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mob Bros Being Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: Tell me that you're still mineTell me that we'll be just fineEven when I lose my mindI need to sayTell me that it's not my faultTell me that I'm all you wantEven when I break your heart
Relationships: Ciro Di Marzio/Rosario Ercolano
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17
Collections: 300bpm Flash Exchange November 2019





	Meet Me in the Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeverwinterThistle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverwinterThistle/gifts).



> Inspired by Afterglow by Taylor Swift

Ciro woke up with a headache, still half-drunk and pressed against Rosario, front-to-back, their limbs taking up most of the space that the small bed afforded them. He'd kicked the covers off sometime in the night, just like he knew he would; Rosario gave off heat like a furnace, and he could feel sweat on his stomach and thighs, even with the cool air coming in through the window above them. 

He had an arm curled around Rosario's waist, knuckles bruised and aching from the night before, fingertips warm where they pressed against Rosario's stomach. There was a heaviness beneath his fingernails, an ache where he'd scraped his skin raw when he'd cleaned the blood from beneath them. Rosario had sat next to him on the bed and watched him, talking about stupid, mindless shit that Ciro didn't really care about and wasn't meant to remember.

He shifted, sticky with sweat, and toyed with the idea of pushing Rosario onto the floor so he could cool off enough to get some sleep. He brushed the idea away and pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of Rosario's stomach instead, hard enough to make him jolt.

"...the fuck, Ciro." Rosario's voice was soft and annoyed, but not surprised. Ciro couldn't remember the last time he'd done or said anything that surprised him. "What's wrong?"

"You're like a fucking furnace." Ciro changed tactics when it felt like Rosario might pull away, rubbing his fingers against his stomach, easing the ache he'd left there. "How's a guy supposed to sleep?"

"I was sleeping just fine," Rosario said, not sounding particularly mad about it. "Sleep on the floor if you're hot."

"I don't sleep on floors." 

Rosario huffed and shifted against him, not bothering to point out the lie. There'd been a time when they'd both slept on the ground in back alleys and been glad of it, Rosario spreading out his jacket for the two of them without Ciro ever having to ask. "So, if you can't sleep, I can't, either?"

Ciro pressed his cheek against the side of Rosario's neck, listening to the slight hitch in his breathing. "No. It's your fault I'm awake."

"Fine, I'll sing you a lullaby," Rosario said, voice heavy with something more than sleep. He pushed his hips back against Ciro, just enough to rub up against his cock, and made a sound that wasn't quite a question. "That what you want?"

"I wouldn't wish your singing voice on my worst enemy." Ciro slid his hand down to grip Rosario's hip, turning his head to brush his lips against warm skin. "Do you want to give me nightmares?"

Rosario sighed, arching his neck to make room for him. "I'm sure you can handle it."

"I can't believe you would want me to suffer such a thing," Ciro said, moving his hand from Rosario's hip and into the narrow space between their bodies, slipping it downwards until he felt the warm heat of Rosario's thighs beneath his fingertips. There was sweat on his skin--his or Ciro's, it was hard to tell--and Ciro traced his fingers through it, listened to Rosario's breathing grow heavy as he worked a finger into the gap between his thighs. "And you know if I can't sleep, then you don't get to, either."

"Fine." The word was a poor attempt at petulance, too breathy to sound anything but eager. Rosario shifted and Ciro felt his thighs tighten around his finger, muscles flexing as Ciro added a second, thrusting them forward, rubbing against his bare skin in a slow, deliberate tease. "If I'm tired tomorrow, it's your fault."

"You have no one to blame but yourself." Ciro half-laughed, half-sighed and rested his forehead against Rosario's shoulder, staring down between them, watching his fingers disappear between Rosario's damp thighs. "You're wet, Rosa."

"It's sweat. And I'm not the only one."

"What do you expect when you give off so much heat?" Ciro fingered Rosario's thighs like he was a nervous virgin, drawing it out longer than was strictly necessary, wanting to hear that familiar, desperate edge to Rosario's breathing. He held out for longer than Ciro expected, made him work for it. It should have annoyed him, but he liked the slow build up, the silent battle to see who would crack first.

When it seemed like Rosario might actually win--the press of Ciro's underwear against his cock making him want to beg for it, and Rosario just lying there, thighs pressed obediently together--he angled his fingers upward, thrusting them against the skin just behind Rosario's balls, more roughly than most people would have liked. Rosario swore and arched off the bed, thighs losing their grip for just a moment.

"Ciro--

"Hold still," Chiro whispered and pulled his fingers free, ignoring Rosario's disappointed groan. He moved his hand upward between their bodies and pushed down the front of his underwear to free his cock, pushing his hips forward to press it against Rosario.

Rosario made a choked noise, body going carefully still.

"You still feel like a furnace," he said, staring down at his cock, watching as it left smears of precum on Rosario's skin. "Are you this warm for everyone?"

Rosario continued to hold himself still, the only movement he made the flexing of his thighs as Ciro rubbed the head of his cock against them, tracing the line where they met. "Fuck." 

"Just me, then. That's what I thought." Ciro's voice was satisfied as he took his cock in his hand, slipping it forward into the slick space between Rosario's thighs. He closed his eyes, the tight warmth almost too much; Rosario made a needy sound, thighs tensing as Ciro thrust deeper between them, then relaxing slightly when he withdrew. He pressed a hand flat against Rosario's stomach, holding them both steady as he moved. "Has anyone else ever told you how warm you feel around their cock? It's almost too much, you know."

"No. No one's told me that." Rosario covered Ciro's hand with his own and kept his thighs pressed tight together, body kept carefully still as he let Ciro take the lead, moving them both the way he wanted. "Just you."

Ciro rubbed his cheek against Rosario's shoulder in appreciation, fucking his thighs hard enough to shake the bed beneath them. The wet slide of skin against skin and the groaning of the bed frame filled the room, nearly drowning out the sound of their rough breathing. The tip of his cock brushed against Rosario's balls with his next thrust forward and Rosario swore, digging his fingernails into the back of Ciro's hand. 

"Fuck--"

Ciro turned his head, breathing in the wet warmth of Rosario's skin. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes and the cheap beer they'd split after making trouble for some of Don Giuseppe's men. He smelled like Ciro. Like a man.

Ciro gave a rough thrust, forcing both them both forward against the mattress. Rosario kept his hand where it was, covering Ciro's, and didn't reach for his cock, even though Ciro knew by the tone of his breathing that he wanted to.

"You want it?"

"Yes." His hand squeezed Ciro's. "Please."

"I like it when you ask me for things," Ciro breathed, pressing his mouth to Rosario's skin, tasting his sweat. Rosario made a soft, desperate sound and he decided one please was enough. He switched their hands' positions so his covered Rosario's and he guided it downward, pushing into his underwear. "Go on." 

Rosario made a grateful noise and slid his hand out from under Ciro's, curling his finger around his cock and stroking himself fast and rough. His breath caught each time his hand bumped up against Ciro's, still pushed inside Rosario's underwear, not quite touching him.

"Good. Keep going." Ciro's voice caught as the head of Rosario's dick brushed against his fingertips. He thrust forward roughly, cock aching from the heat. "You gonna come first, Rosa?"

"Fuck--I don't know."

"What if I tell you I want you to," Ciro breathed, kisses turning to small bites trailed along Rosario's shoulder. "Would you do it if I asked you to?"

"Yes," Rosario said it without hesitation, the same certainty in his voice that was always there whenever Ciro asked something of him. The steadfast belief that Ciro would do the same for him.

"Would you do anything for me?"

" _Yes_."

"Good." Ciro moved his hand just enough to rub his fingers against the head of Rosario's cock. "Then do it. For me."

Rosario let out a sharp breath, like he'd been punched in the stomach, and came. His come felt even hotter than the rest of him against Ciro's skin; the part of Ciro's brain that wasn't wrapped up in the smell of Rosario's skin wondered if it would leave a mark behind, branding his fingertips for all the world to see.

For just that moment, he didn't care if it did.

"I knew you would," Ciro mumbled, kissing Rosario's shoulder, sticky fingertips still rubbing against the head of Rosario's cock, ignoring the way he hissed and tried to shift his hips away on instinct. "For me."

"...just for you."

He bit down on Rosario's shoulder as he came, harder than before, digging his teeth in until they left a mark he knew everyone would see. Rosario groaned in pain and didn't try to pull away, legs still locked tight around Ciro's cock as he thrust forward one last time, smearing his come across Rosario's thighs.

"Ciro."

He could feel Rosario shaking, the fine tremors that always seemed to happen after he came, like his body couldn't decide if it wanted to pull itself together or fall apart completely. He pulled his hand out of Rosario's underwear, wondering just how long Rosario would have put up with the pain if Ciro had wanted to keep touching him. If he would have begged Ciro to stop or just laid there, trusting Ciro to know how much he could take.

He filed the thought away for another night and slid his cock from between Rosario's thighs, hissing at how cold the air of the room felt against his overheated skin. He pressed a kiss against the bruise forming on Rosario's shoulder, lingering for just a moment, and rolled onto his back, away from Rosario's heat.

Rosario stayed there until his breathing evened out and the shaking stopped, then rolled onto his back beside him, hip pressed against Ciro's. 

Ciro wiped his hand on the sheets and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting one and taking a slow drag as he turned his head to look at the mess they'd made. There was come on Rosario's thighs, on his stomach where Ciro's fingers had brushed his skin, on the front of his underwear where the cotton was still half-tented around his dick. The mark on his shoulder looked like it would be painful, the shape of Ciro's teeth obvious enough to anyone who bothered to look. He wondered if Rosario would make excuses to keep himself covered until it faded. If he just wouldn't bother, saying it was from a fight or a girl or whatever story would get him a laugh and an appreciate slap on the back whenever anyone asked.

Ciro exhaled slowly, watching smoke drift through the air above him, and held the cigarette to Rosario's mouth, waiting for him to take what he wanted before he pulled it away again. "You did good tonight. Really fucked up that guy with the ponytail--what's his name, Marco?"

"Yeah, Marco. That sounds right." Rosario eyed the scrapes on Ciro's knuckles. Between them, his fingers brushed against Ciro's thigh, too gentle to feel like much of anything. "I wouldn't have managed it if you weren't there."

"No, you wouldn't." Ciro shrugged. He felt cold everywhere that Rosario wasn't touching him; the urge to push him away, off the bed and onto the floor, returned. He flicked the ashes from the cigarette onto the carpet instead. "I bought a ring."

Rosario turned his head to stare at him, mouth forming the start of a smile, like he thought Ciro was telling a joke he didn't get. "A ring?"

"For Debora." 

"Oh." Rosario's fingers stilled, surprise flickering across his face. It vanished and he laughed, half-choking with the effort. "You sure you want her to be stuck with a guy like you for the rest of her life?"

"I am," Ciro said, expression serious. "I love her."

Rosario nodded, something dark and fleeting flashing across his face, there and gone again before Ciro had time to place it. "I know you do."

"You'll be there, yeah?" Ciro took another drag off the cigarette, fingertips itching with phantom heat. "I'll need a best man."

"Like I'd let you pick someone else," Rosario said, voice echoing Ciro's seriousness. "I'd kill anyone who tried to take my place."

"Not at my wedding, I hope." Ciro laughed, holding the cigarette against Rosario's mouth again. "You know I wouldn't want it to be anyone else."

Rosario blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "I know."

"I'll return the favor when you find a girl of your own."

"Sure. When I find a girl."

"Just be sure it's someone I like so I can come visit. I want to bring my kids over to play with yours."

Rosario pulled his hand away from Ciro's hip and rested it against his own stomach. "Who says I want my kids to play with yours? Any kid you have is going to be a bad influence."

"Like me?"

"Just like you."

Ciro patted his cheek. "You never seemed to mind."

Rosario caught his wrist, grip too tight for a moment before he loosened it, turning Ciro's hand so he could press his mouth against his bruised knuckles. "I don't."

"Yeah." Ciro pulled his hand away slowly, carefully, like someone afraid to rip off a band-aid, doing it bit by bit instead and causing themselves more pain in the process. He stubbed the cigarette out on the cheap nightstand and settled back against the pillows, Rosario a line of heat beside him. "I don't want you to be alone."

"I know." Rosario shifted beside him, using a corner of their forgotten blanket to clean his stomach and thighs, not meeting Ciro's eyes as he tossed it onto the floor. He laid down again, putting his back to Ciro. "Think you can go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah." Ciro rolled over and reached out, tracing a finger around the edge of the bruise on Rosario's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Rosario said, shivering.

Ciro told himself it was from the cold and moved closer, pressing himself against Rosario's back. "What about you?"

"As long as you don't wake me up again."

"I won't," Ciro promised, and they both pretended to be trying to sleep.


End file.
